


everybody needs somebody (you're not the only one)

by fealle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Multi, Post-Graduation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6108286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fealle/pseuds/fealle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just another story about falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everybody needs somebody (you're not the only one)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my second bokuroo story. forgive me if things sound awkward, i don't normally ship these two and it's a pain trying to suss out new characters in a new ship.
> 
> dedicated to my good friends.

_._

>  
> 
>  
> 
> _“I love you” is always a quotation. You did not say it first and neither did I, yet when you say it and when I say it we speak like savages …_

 

 

 

 

 

 

At some point in Kuroo’s life he thinks about the list of people he’d casually fallen in love with and finds that there was plenty enough to mourn about missed chances and potential ‘what-ifs’ he’d discarded quickly in favour of maintaining a certain kind of reputation, a certain kind of bravado, a certain kind of chill. 'Casually’, since there really was no other way to describe the way he had moved from one intense crush to another. He was just the kind of guy who fell in easily with a person once he realizes how badly their edges and curves align quietly with his own. there are certain personalities he can never tolerate, as it is with everyone else, but thinking back to the people he can comfortably lie down with and announce that he would like to be together, definitely, maybe - it far outweighs the list of people he doesn’t like.

 

 

 

Perhaps that was the problem. He had left university with a certain kind of cynicism where his talents and prospects were concerned, professionally and personally; he had watched half of his friends hook up or get married as he had aged, in that clichéd moment where one notices that all moments in life are just as clichéd as it has been presented on screen, and found himself either alone or lonely. The distinction had been crucial, and it’s sometime around his graduation that Kuroo, tuning out of the ceremony - another lecture on the future for their generation, whatever that means - starts to think about something that had grated on him the other day:

 

 

 

His memory of it was hazy, but he remembered Kenma - his hair now black after he’d been too lazy to dye it blond again after his initial mistake - carefully cutting pieces of cardboard with Hinata. They were making handmade cards for Hinata’s birthday that year, a suggestion from Yachi who had generously lent Hinata her stamps so he can decorate all of his cards to his heart’s content. It’s such a stupidly simple gesture, but it was at that moment when he first felt an acute sense of feeling when he’d realized Kenma had gone past where he was rooted, watching them be content with each other. It wasn’t a sense of jealousy; he knew and cared for Kenma too much in order to let his feelings be distorted. It was a sense of loneliness at not being able to feel that kind of closeness with someone, over something as simple as decorating cards. Kuroo remembers leaving the kitchen with a slight frown as he tries to make sense of his thoughts. None of it made sense, but a part of him, a part of him that spoke in a rather cynical, annoying voice, told him he’d been alone and too careful with people for far too long.

 

 

 

He thinks about this now as the ceremony comes to a close and a sea of black leaps into each other’s arms, spills out of the building in excited chatters. Kuroo holds his diploma in his hands with a certain awkward gait as he walks away. It was, he thought, a rather terrible time to be serious when he’d told himself he’d be happy today. The memory of loneliness, of wanting, lingered in him even when it was time to take photos with his family, beaming in a way that he can’t quite manage to attempt at all. It’s with this awkward state of wanting that he had left his university with and it remained with him for the rest of the day, uncharacteristically quiet as he stared out of the car window, watching and not really seeing the traffic pass by.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Bokuto mentions going out for drinks a day after he graduates. Kuroo agrees, if only because the only thing he actually has to do was to double his efforts to look for a job. Unlike most of the more talented people he knew, Kuroo never went to the volleyball route, had abandoned it for a degree that he felt was more practical and agreeable in Tokyo’s economic clime. He often felt for people like Bokuto who was struggling to get recognition in a competition so cutthroat that it had no room for the way his temper moves in strange fits and wants, the lack of a Fukurodani that had rallied behind him severely forcing him to adjust his mental fortitude and be able to function despite being hit by the latest block in his drive to become part of the top 3. It stressed him out, to say the least. It had manifested in 3 am phonecalls to him and Akaashi as Bokuto tried to solve the ever important question: _What Am I Doing With My Life?_ He had tried his best to help him. The truth was that Kuroo would like answers to that question too, preferably with diagrams and graphs attached.

 

 

 

Bokuto buys him a drink - “everything’s on me tonight,” he declares - and then they talk. About how Bokuto’s been practicing to become a regular; how he’s always known there’s someone better than him out there but actually being confronted with that reality wasn’t as humbling as he’d thought it was going to be - rather, it had been infuriating, and humiliating, especially if that someone was younger than he was; about his recent break-up with a girl whom he had been absent for most of the time because he was too focused on his work. Kuroo talked about not having work and left it that, because even the prospect was depressing enough that there’s really nothing else to add to that. Not having work after you graduate was the sad norm for a lot of people, sadly, but not having work after you graduate, in a place like Tokyo, is a new level of despair. He downs his vodka with a kind of viciousness, wincing at the way it burns at his throat, and Bokuto, ever sympathetic, pours him another one.

 

 

 

“You ever think of getting engaged while you’re looking for work?”

 

 

 

“Bokuto, for fuck’s sake. That’s the equivalent of blowing up a bridge after you’ve crossed it.”

 

 

 

“I’m just saying, man. Kai’s married now. Konoha’s with a hot model. Akaashi’s got two people confessing to him in a week – did you know he called me over the weekend, asking me what to do? I’m like the worst at giving relationship advice, I tried to fix mine with a lot of yelling and crying - ”

 

 

 

Kuroo smirked. “So the usual, then - ”

 

 

 

“Shut your face,” Bokuto glares, but he’s not too serious about it and besides, he’s already into his third glass of whiskey. He has this thing where he pretends to be a lot more mature than he actually is and adopts certain mannerism that’d signal what he wants to achieve, but Kuroo knows better that he’s posturing for the sake of it, and he’s kind enough not to point out to him that this kind of machismo really isn’t working in front of him. “Anyway, I tried to explain that to Akaashi but he’s like, 'well, Bokuto-san, you’re the only one I know who’s busy with work but tried to have a relationship anyway, I was hoping you could help me?’ And I couldn’t bear to tell him - ” he takes a drink, and Kuroo takes a sip as he tries to make a mental game out of drinking whenever Bokuto reveals his own insecurities, therefore consigning his liver to hell, “ - tell him that you know, I kind of fucked that part up. But it’s Akaashi, I can’t just leave him alone, you know what I mean?”

 

 

 

Kuroo nods. There’s a reason why he hasn’t stopped checking in on someone like Tsukishima, too, and it’s for the same reason Bokuto hasn’t given up on Akaashi. Maybe it’s true that old habits die hard, but what with the way his relationships with people have changed so quickly throughout university - falling out of touch with people, making new connections, disappearing from social circles - he and Bokuto liked to maintain a small circle that the two of them can be comfortable with despite time and distance making things impossible.

 

 

 

“So anyway, I tried to give him advice, but he ends up rejecting them anyway because - and I quote - 'you said it’d be a disservice to accept their affection if I didn’t have the time to dedicate myself to them.’”

 

 

 

Kuroo looks at him. “You said that?”

 

 

 

“THAT’S WHAT I WAS SURPRISED ABOUT TOO,” Bokuto was almost yelling, which really didn’t matter in the rather loud strip club. Kuroo wants to laugh so badly but Bokuto is so serious, so earnestly serious. “Because I definitely didn’t say anything like that! Can you imagine me saying shit like 'a disservice to accept their affection’ or whatever, oh my god. Shoot me if I tried to say something that pretentious, only Akaashi can pull off something like that and make it mean something - Kuroo, god, stop laughing or I’ll kill you, I’m not yet done - ”

 

 

 

“I can’t help it,” Kuroo says, gasping for air as he nearly cries laughing at the image of Bokuto telling Akaashi, word for word, that same phrase. “It just - oh man …”

 

 

 

“Shut up, oh my god. Anyway Akaashi is all by himself and is not in a relationship and I can’t help but think that’s my fault, I’m a bad senpai, Kuroo.”

 

 

 

“And you’re telling me that I should hook up with someone while I’m jobless, because - ?”

 

 

 

“Because I can’t be the only one suffering like this, asshole!”

 

 

 

He throws a fry at Bokuto, who yelps at it indignantly when it hits his forehead as Kuroo shakes his head. “I missed you.”

 

 

 

“Yeah, well, now that you’re dead set on becoming a salary man I’m gonna miss you too while I’m working my butt off not to be benched. You ever come to the point where you look at something and you’re like, 'damn, I fucking hate that thing, I’ve been looking at it for far too long!’ That’s how I feel about volleyball right now. But I keep showing up,” Bokuto says mournfully. “I keep showing up because I got it bad, and I owe it to myself and to that kid who told Tsukishima a long time ago that it’s worth it, I owe it to that guy to keep going.”

 

 

The look on Kuroo’s face softens at his words. he’s about to say something profoundly sad, but then Bokuto gives him no room by saying, “so anyway, last night, I kind of pissed off Sarukui by getting us in trouble with the cops because he lost a bet with me and he ended up wearing the old Fukurodani girls’ uniform - ”

 

 

 

“… oh my god, Bokuto. What will I do without you, really.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Tsukishima comes to visit him sometimes, and he always brings food with him. He never asked for presents, but Tsukishima always brings something for him anyway. When pressed, he very reluctantly answered, “I have always been in your care, and I like to return the favour whenever I can.”

 

 

 

There’s really not much a guy can say to something like that, so he had stopped questioning Tsukishima whenever he brings in souvenirs from Miyagi and they just happen to be two weeks’ worth of meals or a box of toiletries or vintage playboy mags he’d found at a thrift store, because of course Tsukishima was that kind of boy. He appreciates everything he brings for him to the point that he also has a growing list of the things Tsukishima brings him. The list includes everything from the mundane to the things he had attempted to refuse, but failed in the negotiation, such as a space heater and a heated blanket from last winter, gel pillows for his birthday, and most recently, a dining table when he’d found out that Kuroo had been eating in his room all the time because he hadn’t had the time to buy one. The dining table just happened to be lying around his house. They had fought relentlessly over the damn table, as Kuroo was of the opinion that his sort-of kouhai need not to go to such lengths where 'taking care of him’ is concerned; but he lost, that too, because Tsukishima had brought in reinforcement in the form of Akaashi.

 

 

 

That morning he had brought some home-cooked meals and a usb filled with movies. His mouth presses into a thin, disapproving line the minute Tsukishima puts it on the table and looks back at him wordlessly, his eyes challenging him to refuse it. He was not so cynical that he’d count these gestures as charity, since Tsukishima just genuinely wants to take care of him the way he couldn’t take care of his brother when he was growing up (oh, Kuroo had found out about that too - ), and maybe this is just projection or transference, he can’t really tell, but it’s better than Tsukishima trying to pretend that he wasn’t interested in anything, so he accepts the usb without question with a gruff, “thanks.”

 

 

 

“You’re welcome.” he eyes him skeptically. “You look terrible.”

 

 

 

“I drank with Bokuto last night. I just got home … maybe three hours ago.”

 

 

 

“I see.” He takes out a container from his bag, and presents Kuroo with some cake. “Congratulations.”

 

 

 

He takes out some plates and two forks for the both.

 

 

 

In the time that they’d been together, he’d learned how to interpret Tsukishima’s silences, and had found solace in them the moment he’d understood how the kid works. It takes a while before Tsukishima starts talking, about how it’s his second year in university and he finds the work a lot more challenging than he’s used to, but the company he keeps is excellent and he’s doing a lot more socializing compared to his high school year where he could barely stand anyone outside of Karasuno. He mentions Yachi and Yamaguchi together, and updates him about Hinata aiming to be part of team Japan while fantasizing about Kageyama as his opponent, Kageyama who had gone overseas. For himself, he was content to be in school and to be part of a community team while taking a part time job coaching the kid’s team. Kuroo tries to listen despite his headache, eating the cake slowly as Tsukishima talks. He noticed that he had lost his awkwardness, too, that overly-cautious defense that he had put up around him when he was younger. Kuroo smiles at him as he finishes, and then tells him, “I’m real proud of you, kid.”

 

 

 

“What are you, my dad?”

 

 

 

“Tsukishima, just take it for what it is.”

 

 

 

He rolls his eyes. Tsukishima had grown taller. He was a head taller than Kuroo, and the only one he knows that’s taller than this kid was Lev. “What’s new with you?”

 

 

 

“Nothing. Finding work. Bokuto broke up with his girlfriend.”

 

 

 

“I heard. It was in the news for a while, but I didn’t really know why.”

 

 

 

“Nothing special. He was too busy to be in a relationship, it just didn’t work out.”

 

 

 

“I see.” he glances at him over his glasses, and Kuroo feels like he was being dissected on the table. It’s unfair how this kid can be so sharp when he wanted to. “And you?”

 

 

 

“Nothing.”

 

 

 

“Nothing?”

 

 

 

“What do you want me to say? I spent years studying and drinking and working. There wasn’t much time for anything else.”

 

 

 

“You made time for Bokuto.”

 

 

 

“Bokuto will cry if you don’t make time for him, you know that.”

 

 

 

“Hmm,” Tsukishima replies, that sharp eyebrow of his raised as he looks at him in disbelief. Sometimes Kuroo feels like he was the younger brother he never had, but then he remembers how much of a pain Tsukishima can be and thanks whatever deity there are in the world that he had never been related to him. As much as he loves the kid he can never stomach the kind of viciousness that Tsukishima was capable of, the kind that made him capable of ignoring his brother, Akiteru, for years. Even if he was in the right, Kuroo can’t help but feel sorry for his older brother anyway, though that’s the kind of thing he never mentions to him in order to keep the peace.

 

 

 

“You should be like those other adults.”

 

 

 

“Doing what?”

 

 

 

“Hooking up with friends and stuff. It’s not a bad idea.”

 

 

 

He stops eating and looks at him.

 

 

 

Tsukishima continues to polish the cake off of his plate without missing a beat, but he’s not looking at him now. Kuroo can’t explain it, but the way he handles his gestures - so carefully contrived to be so detached - fills him with dread. “Tsukishima Kei,” he says slowly. “What are you implying?”

 

 

 

“Nothing, Kuroo Tetsurou-san. I have to leave. I have a meeting to go to.”

 

 

 

“A meeting? In Tokyo?”

 

 

 

“Yes. With a certain Akaashi Keiji. I can’t keep him waiting, I’m sorry.”

 

 

 

He rolls his eyes. Before Tsukishima leaves, though, he presses a finger on his lips as he watches Kuroo. “Think about what I said, please.”

 

 

 

“About hooking up with other people?”

 

 

 

“It’s not a bad idea to consider.”

 

 

 

“So you say.”

 

 

 

“Do I need to spell out my intentions to you plainly?”

 

 

 

“Well, I’d prefer that - ”

 

 

 

“You reek of despair,” Tsukishima says bluntly. “I understand that this is all post-graduation stuff, but it’s terrible and it detracts from the fact that you can be a good person from time to time. You have dropped off from many of the social circles you used to be part of, and are barely in contact with the people from your old Nekoma team, which is understandable given that people change; but on your part this is kind of sudden. You are a constant third wheel between Hinata and Kenma, to the point that Hinata feels sorry about you. _And_ you haven’t gone out to see any other place other than Tokyo for a couple of years.”

 

 

 

“Okay,  _look_ , when you said 'plainly’ I wasn’t expecting you to, you know, drag me - ”

 

 

 

“Shall I go on?”

 

 

 

“No, no - I get it.” Kuroo sighs. He runs a hand through his messy hair while Tsukishima ties his shoes. “I’ll think about it.”

 

 

 

“Good. By the way - you need to shave.” He points at his face. “ _That_  looks ugly.”

 

 

 

Having wrecked his ego, Tsukishima leaves, while Kuroo quietly tries to pick up the pieces of his dignity as he lets the sound of the door reverberate in the silence of the apartment.

 

 

 

“I need to see other people,” Kuroo says sadly. The apartment doesn’t answer, but Kuroo thinks that it’d be cool if someone was there to reassure him that he’s still handsome despite the stubble on his face anyway.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

He tries to think of how many people he’s had a crush on and finds that he’s barely in contact with them at all; or, he can’t even remember why he considered them crushes in the first place. He was lying in his bed at three in the morning when he decided he should return the favour and call Bokuto, who almost never sleeps or can’t sleep anyway for one reason or another - it’s too loud in his apartment, he’s worried about everything from the pipes in his apartment to the dog that he petted on the park that one time, and so on. It turns out that Bokuto had had it in his mind to clean his apartment at 3 in the morning when he called him, and he can hear him washing the dishes as he told him what Tsukishima, that brat, had done to him when he visited that morning.

 

 

 

“Man, Tsukki can be so mean. Just when you thought he’d mellow out by the time he goes past puberty, kid decides to whack you with a verbal hammer. I’m telling you, man, hanging out with Akaashi did him no good at all.”

 

 

 

“This is your fault. _You_ told the kid he could be anything he wanted, and now he’s a professional asshole who loves me.”

 

 

 

“FYI, I _told_ him he can love the ball life if he lets the ball life love _him_. And aww, Kuroo. I’m sure he’d love to hear how much you like him too.” Bokuto turns off the faucet. In Kuroo’s mind, he can see him reaching for the dishtowel so he can start wiping his dishes. He knows his movements too well.

 

 

 

“Bokuto. Do you remember that girl - in Karasuno - the manager?”

 

 

 

“Uh. Shimizu, I think?”

 

 

 

“Yeah. I just remembered, I had a crush on her when we were in high school.”

 

 

 

“Everyone did. Our manager had a crush on her, the trees had a crush on her - ”

 

 

 

“Shut up. I’m … trying to think about my crushes.”

 

 

 

Whatever it is that Bokuto was doing, he’d stopped. He sounds skeptical over the phone, and maybe a little worried. “Why …? What the hell did Tsukki do to you?”

 

 

 

“He told me I reek.”

 

 

 

“Well that’s just mean - ”

 

 

 

“He told me I need to shave, I look ugly.”

 

 

 

“Oh my god. I’m gonna talk to him - ”

 

 

 

“He told me I need to actually see people.”

 

 

 

“Oh. Well, he’s not exactly wrong.”

 

 

 

“Thing is, I don’t remember a lot about these people I had crushes on, or like, why. And I had so many. Daichi’s on that list.”

 

 

 

“It’s because you’re a masochist, Kuroo Tetsurou. That’s why you put people like Daichi on your list. Nobody puts  _Daichi_  on their crush list unless you’re looking for trouble, especially if your name isn’t Sugawara Koushi. Or that Jouzenji guy.”

 

 

 

“Listen, you damned owl. Can’t you like, be sympathetic to me or something. My ego’s feeling a bit bruised after Tsukki shat all over it.”

 

 

 

“Aww, are you feeling tender, Kuroo. Do you need me to suck your dick - ”

 

 

 

“I’m not turning down that offer, but I’m gonna gut you.”

 

 

 

“Why is the prospect of seeing someone a current impossibility for you. Are you just being your overly cautious self, or something?”

 

 

 

Sometimes, Kuroo thinks, suddenly exhausted, sometimes Bokuto says things like this so casually, where he can be so caring but so incisive despite being a wreck himself, and Kuroo can never figure out where he gets this kind of intensity, this kind of intuitive sharpness that gets into the heart of things. As a player when Bokuto was playing at his best he was nigh unstoppable. It was no different when he was at his best as a person and his confidence, his convictions, were firm and unshakeable: he turns into some guy whose confidence was so refreshing, who, even in his bluntness, was gentle in the way he casually delivers it to the person he cares for.

 

 

 

“Maybe,” Kuroo says after a while. “I mean, I’ve lost a couple of people while I was going through university and all, and when that happens you can’t help but think like everyone else is going to disappear too. I don’t mean like - I don’t mean like you’re going to do that or whatever. I mean like … it’s just a lot harder to maintain relationships outside of the ones you managed to keep all these years. We’ve been told by almost everyone and their mother that, well, you know, making friends with people in uni’s gonna be easy 'cause you’re gonna find so many people who share the same interests as you or whatever, but actually, that’s what makes it a hell lot easier to move on from acquaintances, if that makes sense? That sense of – ‘I can always find someone else’ – ”

 

 

 

“- sometimes, Kuroo, you’re literally worse than Tsukki when it comes to over-rationalizing things.”

 

 

 

“Can you not interrupt my suffering, I am really uncomfortable when we’re not talking about me.”

 

 

 

“That should be my line, and Akaashi will kill you for learning that from me.” Bokuto sighs. “Look. What the hell do you want? From someone.”

 

 

 

“I want money and a lot of dick sucking, maybe.”

 

 

 

“Asshole, everyone wants money and dick sucking.”

 

 

 

“Okay. I just - ”

 

 

 

_What do I want?_

 

 

 

He bites his lower lip at the question, and thinks back at how content Kenma was making cards with Hinata, and of course the first thing he blurts out at Bokuto was, “I wanna make homemade birthday cards and put stamps on them.”

 

 

 

“…. what?”

 

 

 

“Nothing. Look, it’s three in the morning, I’m going to bed. Stop fucking cleaning your apartment and go to sleep.”

 

 

 

“Okay. I mean, you’re running away, but fine. It was - ” Bokuto tries to stifle a yawn, and fails, and Kuroo finds himself yawning as well. “- really personal and sudden, and anyway, you’re right, it’s three in the morning. Hey, do you listen to Guns 'n Roses? They’re a rock band. Tsukki introduced me to them the other day and now I listen to them when I work out.”

 

 

 

“Yeah, I know about them but I haven’t really listened to a lot of their songs. I know 'Welcome to the Jungle’. You seriously listen to rock bands now?”

 

 

 

“Yeah? You got a problem with that? But hey, that’s a cool song. Listen to 'November Rain’, okay? I’m going to bed. G'night, Kuroo.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He met Akaashi in the library later that week while he was busy firing off resumes. He could probably do this in the quiet of his apartment, too, but at Tsukishima’s suggestion he decides to actually go out. Meeting people, if he could call it that, without the need to be mashing his face on a designated person for a year, a decade, or an eternity, or however long crushes or affairs were supposed to last. He focuses at his current task with fervour and it’s late in the afternoon and five coffees later when he finally closes his laptop and leans back on his chair, tired from the constant writing, re-writing, sending, calling. If he had learned anything from this experience, it’s that he’s finally skilled enough to beg politely if he had to.

 

 

 

Akaashi was there because he was studying and he needed a break. He had been revising and re-writing his notes on all his subjects and he’s tired, and he hasn’t even made his index cards for the most difficult of his courses: property law. He has the kind of dedication that will probably see him through his academic career, and when he mentions that he’d like to pick something up outside the library just for a break, Kuroo shudders at the idea of getting more coffee. “Please, I’m too wired. I can’t drink that like I’m seventeen anymore.”

 

 

 

“You have terrible habits.”

 

 

 

“I’ve long accepted my flaws. Are you hungry? Did you eat lunch yet? Dinner?”

 

 

 

“You do, and yes, mother, I have.” Akaashi smiles at him as he rolls his eyes. “I appreciate the concern, thank you.”

 

 

 

Kuroo laughs. “Nobody appreciates me enough.”

 

 

 

“You can always find someone who does. It might be useful. For sharing the rent, and making life interesting in general.”

 

 

 

“Oh man, not you too. Is this what you and Tsukki talked about during your night out? I can’t have you kids planning my love life, you know.”

 

 

 

“We talked about other things. Like how Tsukishima got into a fight with his brother again, and is staying over my place for a week because he can’t stand being home.”

 

 

 

He looks at Akaashi. “He didn’t mention that to me.”

 

 

 

“He didn’t want to. Yamaguchi and I know. You and Bokuto-san reminds him too much of his brother, and he felt embarrassed to even mention it.” Akaashi sighs as he slips his hands into his pockets. “But it’s serious enough that he booked a week off from everything else. I told him to talk to him and find a middle ground, of course. Tsukishima hated my advice because he’s feeling vindictive at the moment, but … he’ll do something. He always does.”

 

 

 

He buys Akaashi ice cream. The two of them sit at a bench in the nearby park, watching the sunset.

 

 

 

“I was talking to Bokuto at three in the morning.”

 

 

 

“That’s normal for both of you.”

 

 

 

“That’s not normal, c'mon. I’ve been telling him to not stay up so late when he has practice and everything - ”

 

 

 

“- and yet he doesn’t sleep until he knows that you already went to bed. Hmm.”

 

 

 

“You do that thing,” Kuroo says, raising an eyebrow at his response, “where you look at me and make noises like 'hmm’ or 'tsk’ or whatever the way Tsukishima does, all judgemental-like, and I can’t tell whether I’m being insulted or doubted. Probably both.”

 

 

 

“You were talking about Bokuto and your three am phonecalls.”

 

 

 

Akaashi was smiling as he ate his ice cream. Kuroo narrows his eyes at him, but then continues his story. “I told him about my list of crushes and that I can’t even remember why most of them are in that list, and then he tells _me_ I’m a masochist, can you believe that?”

 

 

 

“I can. Because that’s exactly what you are.”

 

 

 

“Why can’t you guys love me?”

 

 

 

“We do.”

 

 

 

“… I know.” he sighs. “Maybe that’s the worst part of everything.”

 

 

 

“It’s not, and you know it.” Akaashi says softly. “And it’s not terrible to feel like you want something more, either.”

 

 

 

He didn’t mean to say it was the worst. Probably the most infuriating thing about being friends with the people he chose to remain in contact with was the fact that they knew him so well that it’s difficult to hide from them. Kenma had gotten to the point where he’d stopped reminding him of taking care of himself constantly, and even Tsukishima had set aside his personal troubles just so that he could pay him a visit. It’s a bit humbling. It’s not stopping the feeling of wanting to be with someone, or the uncertainty of fleeting acquaintances and friendships, for that matter. if anything else - and Bokuto had been right the first time around - it was increasing that sense of anxiety he had, being overly cautious about relationships that could easily end over similar tastes and needs. If he had learned anything from growing up, it’s the fact that people can and will leave his life whenever they choose to. That in itself was enough to be scared of, but when the alternative was loneliness, was it really better to be alone?

 

 

 

He finishes his cone and licks his thumb clean of the ice cream that had dripped on it during the silence.

 

 

 

“Hey, Akaashi. Do you listen to Guns n’ Roses?”

 

 

 

“… not really. I know Bokuto does, though.”

 

 

 

“I was listening to 'November Rain’ on loop last night. I think I can make a mean Axl impression.”

 

 

 

“Please don’t.”

 

 

 

“No, seriously, allow me to demonstrate.” He clears his throat. Gets his fingers into position for his manic air guitar.

 

 

 

Akaashi turns to stand up and leave. “Good bye.”

 

 

 

“Oh c'mon, I haven’t even started - !”

 

 

 

“I’m sure it’s going to be excellent, Kuroo.” He rolls his eyes. “As it stands, I like having my ear drums intact. Play it for someone who cares for it a lot more than I will.”

 

 

 

“That’s a really hurtful thing to say, Akaashi.”

 

 

 

So he calls Bokuto, who of course, tells him, in absolute seriousness, in that endless earnestness, that he was the best singer he’d ever listened to in the history of forever.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was a terrible summer. The kind of summer where the birds were barely even around to chirp in the morning as the heat settles in waves throughout the city. Tokyo was a humming, indifferent monolith of light and concrete in daylight, and Kuroo felt his eyes burn as he navigated the city going from building to building, interview to interview making the most of his time. He moved with the kind of singular purposiveness that its citizens did through its streets. Every time, he felt his shirt sticking to the back of his neck or underneath his armpits or in the crook of his elbows, introducing himself again and again to people until they forget his name or why he had been there in the first place. In the evening, the heat burnt off into neon lights, sublimating into traffic horns and the busy chatter and laughter of people moving through bars and restaurants. His hair had grown to a wild nest that trailed around the back of his neck and down his spine. He kept his face clean-shaven, though, if only because he knew Tsukishima didn’t approve.

 

 

 

Bokuto was in his apartment, setting up containers of take-out food on his table, and then the beer, when he stopped and looked at him in silence for a while, his mouth slightly open as he tries to articulate something that took hold of him, very briefly, before it let him go. Kuroo catches him just at the moment where he turns his eyes anywhere but him, and confused, he asked, “what’s up?”

 

 

 

“… what - oh, nothing. I just noticed you grew your hair.”

 

 

 

“… I never got around cutting it,” Kuroo replied. He rolled his sleeves to expose his arms to the air as he heats up fried rice for both of them.

 

 

 

“It looks good,” Bokuto says finally.

 

 

 

He didn’t really talk much after that, which he thought was weird, but didn’t think too much of it. After all, it had been too warm in the apartment, and he was really looking forward to just drinking chilled beer along with their shitty take-out food. Akaashi would probably disapprove of their dietary choices at the moment, but then again, he disapproves about a lot of things, and anyway they only do this once in a while. They sat on the couch eating calamari and chinese food while watching re-runs of volleyball games and other sports shows before moving on to action movie after action movie, and, two packs of beers later, that’s when Kuroo brings out the vodka and the juice because Bokuto hates drinking it straight and he’s enough of a barbarian to drink it by itself.

 

 

 

It’s late in the evening when he gets a text from Tsukishima saying,  _are you taking care of yourself?_

 

 

 

“Some days I think you guys are too much.”

 

 

  
Bokuto laughed. “Too much, as opposed to what. Just leaving you alone to brood in your apartment or something?”

 

 

 

“That’d be nice for once.”

 

 

 

“Well, I thought about doing it. I mean - you know how Akaashi and Tsukki can be, they’ll leave you for a while if they think you need the space. And I thought, 'damn, maybe I’m bothering Kuroo.’” He takes a drink. He must’ve thought he came off a lot more honest than he expected, because he takes several drinks. But all he says afterwards was, “you never said you were bothered. And things just … I don’t know, I wouldn’t say it got worse but we went past texting and stuff and we just … it just felt natural to talk to you even at 3 in the morning and I can’t sleep. Do you think that’s weird?”

 

 

 

“What’s weird? That I’m talking to someone other than the people who keep telling me to talk to someone else?”

 

 

 

“Well, that too.” Bokuto shook his head, grinning. “I just … I - ”

 

 

 

He was quiet after a while. And Kuroo, because it felt good at that time, puts his arm around Bokuto, because he didn’t know what else to say, and somehow that’s alright. Sometimes they fall into this kind of - unexpected moment of tenderness, where he can just be at ease in his company, neither Bokuto’s insecurities nor Kuroo’s over-rationalization of things getting in the way of being able to breathe, be comfortable, to be satisfied at the close proximity of each other’s flesh. Tsukishima, in a rare instance of vicious honesty, told him that where acquaintances are concerned, being together doesn’t mean being _together_. But when he’s comfortable with Bokuto it felt a lot more genuine, maybe even a lot more exciting given that Bokuto in general just means excitement to him; stupidly clichéd in the realization that he’s just allowed to be himself for however long he wants, so long as he’s with him, and maybe for now that’s enough. Maybe that’s being together _together_ , too.

 

 

 

“Listen,” Kuroo says, setting aside his vodka as he closes his eyes and leans back on the couch. “Bokuto. we should be together.”

 

 

 

“… what.”

 

 

 

“I said - ”

 

 

 

“I heard what you said.”

 

 

 

He glances at him. “So what’s the problem?”

 

 

 

“Nothing,” Bokuto says. He drains the remainder of his screwdriver and smiles. “You’re a dense butt sometimes, but that’s okay. I like that about you too.”

 

 

 

“Is that any way to talk to your - ” Kuroo frowns. “Boyfriend? Is that right?”

 

 

 

“Sure, if you want. Hey, you can be like - partner in crime - or supreme mackerel seducer - ”

 

 

 

“…. this is far from romantic, Bokuto.”

 

 

 

“Oh my god, I’m trying to come up with alternative nicknames, so help me here. I’m too drunk. I’m happy but I’m like, way too drunk.”

 

 

 

Kuroo shakes his head. “Go to sleep. We’ll hash out proper nicknames tomorrow. We need to come up with sappy ones, because I want to make Kenma gag.”

 

 

 

“Ohhhh  _man_. Okay. You’re on. You’re so - fuck, my head hurts, you’re right, I’m going to bed.”

 

 

 

He lies down on the couch, turning to the side with a moan as he tries to sleep. Kuroo throws his jacket on him and Bokuto pulls it over himself as a blanket. He tries to remember the number of times he’s seen Bokuto like this, ever since the first time he’s met him in training camp a long time ago: far too many times. And yet he never gets tired of watching him do it, and anyway he’s fairly sure his jacket has accommodated Bokuto after a while. He lays a hand on his waist as he watches him sleep, and then he says, “You know, when I told you about that list of crushes. Somehow you never made it there.”

 

 

 

“… are we breaking up, because I don’t think I have enough in me to cry right now.”

 

 

 

“No, we’re not. I’m just saying. And maybe you never were, just because you fucking distracted me all the time.”

 

 

 

Bokuto peers at him from where he was lying down on the other side of the couch with his jacket. In a rather unsure voice, he tells him, “I’m so emotional?? But I’m glad we’re not breaking up??”

 

 

 

“Look, what i’m trying to say is - ” Kuroo sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. Bokuto groans. “What?”

 

 

 

“Don’t do that, it’s too sexy.”

 

 

 

“… sexy. You think my wild mane is  _sexy_.”

 

 

 

“I’m a little drunk, Kuroo.”

 

 

 

“Go to sleep.”

 

 

 

He finishes his vodka and starts tidying up the living room while Bokuto closes his eyes and tries to sleep on his couch.

 

 

 

Everything felt like it was too normal. He remembered Kenma telling him that he had felt - a certain kind of warmth when he told Shrimpy he liked him, he liked him too much. Coming from the normally calm Kenma, _that_ was a moment that had shattered his cool and had moved him enough to confess in so many words how he felt, and it was so gratifying and exciting to hear. But he did not feel like that, and Kuroo was starting to question himself, if this had been the right thing to do, or if he had just done it for the sake of satisfying a particular concern. If it were a case of the latter then he needs to apologize, and that singular thought felt him with so much dread. What if he were wrong? What if he didn’t want this? What if, after all this endless rumination, it turns out that he had put Bokuto in a situation for the sake of satisfying a curiosity, a temporary sense of despair?

 

 

 

He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t think he could stomach telling Bokuto he had been mistaken, he was too drunk, this was all a rash move on his part. He tried to imagine telling him to leave and the statement felt heavy in his tongue, a loaded gun in his shaking hands. He didn’t want to be wrong, but he didn’t know if this was right either. Both of them were busy; Bokuto in particular would get busier the moment he makes it as a regular as a sportstar. He didn’t want to put him in a position that he will regret later on, but all the same, he had said yes to him despite knowing that - didn’t he? Didn’t he?

 

 

 

He stood in the kitchen for the longest time, gripping the bottle of vodka tightly as he mulled these things over. He didn’t even notice that Bokuto had walked in the kitchen, his hair sticking out after rolling around the couch for a while. “Figures. I leave you alone and you have an existential crisis without me.”

 

 

 

Kuroo gritted his teeth. “This is terrifying, okay. I mean - ”

 

 

 

“I know. And I don’t care. We’ll figure things out, we’ll make it work. Why is that so difficult to think?” Bokuto yawns. “I’m nervous too, but … anyway, let’s go to bed.”

 

 

 

Kuroo stared at him. “Together?”

 

 

 

“Sure. We’ve got to start _somewhere_.” Bokuto looks at him, takes in his rather pale face, and adds, “if that’s too sudden, I can always come back tomorrow - ”

 

 

 

“No, that’s fine. We can start there.” He gives a mock bow, and then offers his arm. Bokuto shakes his head, and then pushes him as he makes his way to his bedroom, Kuroo only laughing as he follows after.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Tsukki.**   _are you taking care of yourself?_

 

 

 

**Kuroo.**   _yeah  
also Bokuto and I are together together now so you can stop hmming at me_

 

 

**Tsukki.**   _that’s unfortunate but it’s better than you moping I guess_

 

 

**Kuroo.** I _didn’t raise you to be like this  
did you talk to your brother, don’t think I didn’t know_

 

 

**Tsukki.**   _it’s a work in progress.  
__.–._

 

 

**Kuroo.**   _talk to him._

 

 

**Tsukki.**   _i_   _will._

 

 

**Kuroo.**   _and thanks to introducing Bokuto to guns n’ roses._

 

 

**Tsukki.**   _huh. i’m pretty sure I never recommended him guns n’ roses._

 

 

**Kuroo.**   _…. you’re sure?_

 

 

**Tsukki.**   _yeah? i’d remember if I told him to check them out, but i’m pretty sure I never did._

 

 

**Kuroo.**   _huh. well now._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You know. A certain Tsukishima Kei told me that he never made a Guns n’ Roses rec to you.”

 

 

 

Bokuto, who had been brushing his teeth when he said it, grins as he spits out his toothpaste. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he finishes cleaning up.

 

 

 

“You think you’re so subtle.”

 

 

 

“You liked it,” said Bokuto proudly. He then slaps his ass as he makes his way out of the bathroom. “And anyway, it turned out okay, didn’t it?”

 

 

 

Kuroo smiles at him fondly. He slips his fingers around his own as he holds his hand, and then wrapped his arms around his waist while Bokuto starts to make coffee in the kitchen. Together, slowly. He thinks about Kenma and Hinata again, and makes a mental note to text Kenma later that day. _I get it now._

 

 

 

 

 

 

end.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm at [fealle](http://fealle.tumblr.com/).


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